


Your Voice

by 50_points_for_ravenclaw



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, like angst to the max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:16:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50_points_for_ravenclaw/pseuds/50_points_for_ravenclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw this post on Tumblr:</p><p>Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.</p><p>And I just had to. I'm so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Derek is surprised he managed to actually crawl his way over to his cellphone, sitting on the table where he always leaves it. It takes a bit of effort to stretch up and grab it but he manages and falls back against the leg of the table nearest to him with a grunt of pain. He tries to swipe the screen to unlock the phone a few times before realizing that the reason it isn’t working is because of all of the blood on his hands so he searches for any piece of clothing on him that isn’t covered in the stuff to clean the screen and his fingers. And then finally, the phone is lighting up and Derek is going to call Scott, let him know about the hunters, maybe ask for help, until he’s not.

He can hear the phone ringing vaguely but his attention is stuck on the picture of Stiles staring up at him that the younger man had taken without his knowledge and set as his own contact photo. It was one of those days where they had decided to stay in bed and not leave all day long, napping and talking and fucking. Those were Derek’s favorite days. Stiles had caught one of them in this image, a picture of his pale face pressed to Derek’s lower back so that his cheek is squished in a stupidly adorable way. His expression is content, a smile playing at his lips and his eyes half closed while he gazes at the camera. Derek remembers running his fingers through the unruly brown locks of hair visibly standing in all directions in the picture and feels such a sudden longing for the boy that it almost outweighs the pain in his stomach.

“Hey, Schnook-ums,” comes a voice over the phone and Derek forces himself to hold it up to his ear.

“Hey,” he says quietly.

“What’s up? You never usually call this early,” Stiles continues. Derek can hear muffled sounds of music in the background, some obnoxious punk band that Stiles always listens to, and a constant tapping that’s probably Stiles typing on his keyboard.

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” Derek says. He lets his head fall back against the leg of the table, unable to summon the energy to hold it up anymore. His eyes also slip shut without him meaning to but he can’t be bothered to open them again because this way he can pretend to hear Stiles’ heartbeat over the line.

“Awe, aren’t you sweet,” Stiles croons in amusement. “Well you called with perfect timing because my roommate just left so I am all. By. My. Self.” Derek can almost hear his eyebrows waggle.

With a breathy chuckle, Derek smiles at his boyfriend’s antics and replies, “That is good timing.”

“Why do you sound out of breath?” Stiles asks. “Did you start without me?”

Derek chuckles again and winces when the motion pulls at the open gash in his stomach, the one that is still bleeding and actually beginning to look worse rather than better. “I was working out,” he lies, convincingly enough he thinks because Stiles hums in reply.

“So you finished you’re workout and decided you just _had_ to talk to me right away? Man you got it bad.”

Derek’s everything hurts, from his sore muscles to his dislocated shoulder to his still bleeding and bleeding more as time goes on wound. Despite all this though, Stiles’ teasing is making him feel lighter, like everything is going to be okay when he knows it’s really really not.

“I love you,” he breathes and Stiles chuckles.

“I love you, too,” Stiles says. “Why are you being so sappy today? Is it our anniversary and I forgot?”

“No,” Derek answers seriously even though he knows Stiles is joking. “I just want you to know.”

Stiles is quiet for a minute, the sound of his typing having ceased a little while ago and Derek doesn’t do anything to break the silence that hangs over them—simply listens to Stiles breathing steady and strong. He knows Stiles is thinking, can practically hear the gears turning in his mind but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure he can say anything else even though he wants to. He has _so_ many things he still wants to say.

“Is something wrong, Derek?” Stiles says finally and Derek barely stops himself from sighing in defeat. Leave it to Stiles to figure it out so quickly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Derek answers, hoping his voice sounds normal—like he isn’t bleeding out on the floor and unsure of how long he has until he either passes out from blood loss and pain or simply fades away. “I can’t say I love you without there being something wrong?”

“Not usually,” Stiles mutters. Derek can’t help but wince at the little bit of bitterness he hears.

“Like I said,” he pauses to breathe, “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Derek…”

“And I know I don’t tell you enough,” Derek continues because he can feel his hands and feet going numb and the feeling scares the shit of him. “I should tell you more how much I love you. Because you deserve it. You really do.”

“Are you having some kind of breakdown?” Stiles asks cautiously, his voice full of concern that Derek wishes would go away.

“You’ve fixed so much in my life,” Derek keeps going, being sure not to use past tense even though he knows that’s what he means. “You and Scott and the pack. I don’t know where I would be right now if—if I—if you—”

“Derek, you’re kind of scaring me,” Stiles says lowly.

“I’m sorry,” Derek murmurs, unable to speak any louder. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted you to know.”

“Do you need me to come home?” Stiles asks. “I can come home if you want.”

“You don’t have to,” Derek says even as tears he hasn’t shed in years build at the corners of his eyes. Because he knows Stiles will be home in the next few days. Once someone finds him, Stiles will be the first person they call. Derek glares at the lifeless body of the hunter who’d attacked him, laying just a few feet away in a pool of blood and wishes he were still alive so he could kill him all over again. “Your voice is enough.”

“Are you sure because I can—”

“How is your day so far?” Derek cuts him off.

Stiles pauses for a minute before diving into a story about his wacky philosophy professor and Derek stays still, just listening. He takes in the sound of Stiles’ voice, a thing that once annoyed him but he’s now beyond fond of. He knows he wouldn’t be able to say what the story is about if asked, barely registering any of the words Stiles is saying and instead focusing on the sound, the deeper than would be expected from looking at him tone. Derek doesn’t even realize he’s sliding on the floor, leaning over toward his heavy injured arm until he almost falls over and manages to somehow catch himself and settle properly against the table so that he stays up. His mind feels fuzzy, eyelids heavy and stopping him from opening his eyes again and it’s suddenly much harder to keep the phone pressed to his ear. Stiles voice is beginning to fade away until it’s almost gone completely as his phone clatters to the floor, his hand falling to rest next to it.

“Derek? Derek, you still there?”

Derek just manages to process what Stiles is saying but can’t bring himself to reply. Someone is shouting his name but it doesn’t really sound like Stiles. It’s all just too confusing and there’s a constant loud banging in his head that makes him want to lean over and hurl. He squeezes his eyes shut just as the banging stops with a final clang and his name is being called again, louder this time. Just as he’s slipping into darkness, he feels a hand cup his jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can send me prompts at my Tumblr: http://50-points-for-ravenclaw.tumblr.com/
> 
> (p.s. I might add to this because I'm a sucker for happy endings and this is just too sad)


	2. Chapter 2

“I need to see him!”

“Not right now. Deaton is still treating him.”

“I don’t care! Liam, get off of me!”

“Scott said you can’t go in there.”

“Liam, I swear to god—”

“Stiles.”

…

“Dad…”

 

*****

 

“Are you sure you’re okay to finish up by yourself?”

“Yes, Scott. Why don’t you go and see to Mr. Stilinski?”

…

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“I’m not sure. All we can do is wait for now.”

“What about the hunters?”

“Why are you asking me? You’re the alpha.”

“I know…I just—I don’t know how to deal with this now that the Argents aren’t here.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You always seem to.”

 

*****

 

“He didn’t say anything to you?”

“No! I mean he was acting weird. But he just kept saying he wanted to hear my voice. I thought maybe he was upset for some reason.”

“Sounds like something Derek would do.”

“I thought we were past this whole martyr complex of his! Why would he even call me?”

“I think that’s obvious, Stiles.”

“I just—I’m just glad you found him when you did. Scott…if you hadn’t found him…”

“I did. I did find him. That’s all that matters.”

…

“Could I just—could you leave us alone for a few minutes?”

“Yeah. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Thanks…”

 

*****

 

“…and I can’t even believe you would call me. I can’t even be mad at you for it because I’m scared out of my freaking mind. I don’t know if you’re going to be okay. _Deaton_ doesn’t know if you’re going to okay. And I need you to be okay, okay? Okay, Derek? You have to be okay. After all the shit we’ve been through you just—you have to be okay. You don’t get to die on me. Not now…”

 

*****

 

The first thing Derek notices is the light—which is weird considering his eyes are closed. But the light is persistent, where ever the hell it’s coming from, and manages to blind him even through his eyelids. He tries squeezing his eyes shut even tighter but it doesn’t help much. His next course of action is to roll over so he isn’t facing the light anymore but a sharp twinge of pain shoots up his side at the slightest of movements and he was to grit his teeth against a gasp.

“Derek?”

Screw the light.

Derek’s eyes fly open, squinting as they adjust even as he’s searching for the source of that voice. Because it can’t be real. He can’t be here.

“Derek, hey—don’t move, okay? Don’t move.”

There are warm hands on his shoulders gently holding him down, even though he knows they shouldn’t be able to. Derek’s head lolls to the side and facing slightly away from that piercing light makes it easier for him to see Stiles’ long fingers spread over the muscle of his bare shoulder. He sighs a little at the sight.

“Let me get Deaton.”

The hand is leaving, sliding away and before Derek knows it, he shoots his own hand out to grasp Stiles’ fingers, holding him firmly in place as a noise of protestation leaves his throat. Derek can see him now, head blocking that _damn light_ when he moves to hover over him and he looks almost like an angel with his halo. As soon as the thought is there, Derek immediately pushes it away because that’s just a bit _too_ cheesy for him.

“Stay,” he croaks out and Stiles’ worried expression smooths out a bit into something fonder.

Stiles sits down again in whatever chair he’d been occupying before, scooting close so that he’s right next to where Derek is laid out. He doesn’t let go of Derek’s hand.

“There are so many things I want to say to you but I don’t even know where to begin,” he says quietly and while his small smile is teasing, his tone betrays some of the anger and frustration he must really be feeling. Derek squeezes his hand best he can.

“You can yell at me later,” Derek says, voice raspy and barely audible. Stiles seems to notice because he reaches down at his feet and picks up a half empty water bottle, opening it and helping Derek to take small sips.

“There will definitely be yelling,” he answers as he sets the water back down. “And screaming. Maybe some crying. And then some make up sex. But that’ll have to wait until you’re fully healed. So maybe just some cuddling…and a little more crying and yelling.”

Derek chokes out a small laugh and Stiles gives him a wobbly smile. The expression is painful to see, enough to make Derek close his eyes again for a moment. He knows what Stiles is doing. It’s the same thing he always does when he’s scared or worried. He just doesn’t seem to realize that everyone sees through the façade or maybe he does but he still does it anyway in order not to fall completely apart.

“The hunters…” Derek trails off, gazing up at the younger man.

“Scott’s dealing with them. Apparently rumors of an alive Hale in Beacon Hills with no more other hunters here to keep him in check got around and they decided to come and investigate. The one who attacked you was supposedly just trigger happy,” Stiles scowls. “I don’t know how much I believe them but they say he acted alone.”

“How long have I been out?” Derek asks with a frown. Had they really had long enough to track down the other hunters and have a discussion with them?

“Almost three days. Deaton had a hell of a time putting an IV into your arm and getting it to stay,” Stiles answers, gesturing to the arm opposite him. Derek glances over to see the tube taped to his inner elbow, attached to a bag of fluid hanging on a stand next to him. He grimaces at the sight but leaves it where it is.

“He used wolfsbane,” Derek says, trying to get a look at his abdomen but Stiles forces him to stay flat.

“I know,” he says. “You’re lucky Scott noticed when he found you and grabbed it off the guy’s body before he brought you here. Deaton was able to…do whatever he does to stop it spreading to your heart.”

“Why am I not healing faster?”

“It was a rare species—something not many werewolves have encountered before. So, Deaton said your body is still trying to adjust to fighting it. He said you should be healed in the next couple days.”

“He better not plan on keeping me here.”

“I don’t think he wants to try explaining why there’s an injured werewolf in his backroom to any of his patients,” Stiles says with some amusement.

“Yes, I’m sure the cats and dogs would be scandalized.”

Stiles gives him a look but the smile twitching at his lips betrays him and he leans forward to rest his chin on their joined hands. Large brown eyes stare up at Derek and he’s helpless to do anything but stare back.

“I love you,” Derek blurts out and those eyes widen impossibly more.

“You’re not dying again, are you?” he asks and Derek snorts.

“No, Stiles. I’m not dying.”

Stiles narrows his eyes sitting up to hover his face over Derek’s with a searching gaze. After a moment, he leans down and presses a kiss to Derek’s lips that’s so soft, it’s almost like it isn’t even happening. He doesn’t move away immediately and instead murmurs something against Derek’s lips in a soft whisper. The words are enough to settle Derek’s nervously beating heart (though he couldn’t tell you why he’s feeling so anxious). Instead he smiles and leans up enough to kiss Stiles for real, ignoring the thought that he hasn’t brushed his teeth in three days and that his abdomen kind of hurts in this position because he’ll never get tired of hearing Stiles say:

“I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this got SUPER cheesy and fluffy but whatever. Happy ending!! Yay!
> 
> Tumblr: http://50-points-for-ravenclaw.tumblr.com/


End file.
